


Sandcastles

by LocalShinigami



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Silly, building sandcastles, playful Altair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-04 00:32:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12759429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LocalShinigami/pseuds/LocalShinigami
Summary: Someone has stolen some of Malik's feathers and are now using them for something as silly as building sandcastles in the gardens that litter the rooftops of Jerusalem. Malik does not know who would dare steal from him, but he  is going to find out.





	Sandcastles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JadeHittocere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeHittocere/gifts).



> So... one of my friends as never played the series, so we sat down and played through the first game. I am completely horrible at the first, constantly have the guards spotting me and chasing me down. We spent many minutes hiding in those garden houses. She asked what I thought Altair would be doing in there as he waited for the guards to leave. Making Sandcastles was my answer. She then demanded a story and here it is. Hopefully you all enjoy the silliness!
> 
> Thanks for reading.

Malik stared at the assassin that stood across from, giving the boy a disbelieving look. The young assassin had found another sandcastle with one of the assassination feathers on it in a garden house on the rooftop.

Several weeks ago, a over a dozen feathers had been stolen from the bureau. Shortly afterwards, reports of sandcastles with the feathers and other decorations had been discovered. Some of the rooftop gardens were also being cleaned and trimmed more than usual. Malik could not make heads or tails of the situation. No one knew who had stolen the feathers or who was making the sandcastles. All knew it had to be an assassin though. No one else would have been able to break into the bureau and steal the feathers.

Malik had decided that he was going to find out who had had the audacity to break into his bureau, steal his feathers and then use them for such a childish activity.  

Leaving another rafik to take care of the bureau for a few days, Malik made camp around one of the rooftop gardens close by. It seemed that the culprit spent more time and energy on the garden houses closest to the bureau then anywhere else in the city. Another clue that the culprit had to be an assassin. Hiding behind boxes and barrels that were around, he was able to keep an eye on several gardens.

Several days passed with him only having to leave a few times to check up on the bureau and other assassin. He continued to watch and wait. A few times he would spot an assassin, running from the guards, ducking inside to a garden house to hide. It constantly amazed Malik that not a single guard thought to check inside the little houses for the assassins. The only time it ever occurred to them was when they would catch an assassin jumping into one.

Both Malik and the hiding assassin would wait for the guards to leave. Once the guards were gone, out jumped the hiding assassin and off they would go, to either finish their mission or to report to the rafik. Once the assassin was gone, Malik would jump across the buildings to the  hiding spot and look inside. So far all had lead to disappointment. Not a single one had held a sandcastle.

Malik was quickly losing patience.

Until one day, when Allah decided to reward his frying patience. He was curled up, surrounded by his boxes and barrels, working on a map (He was never one to just sit and do nothing) when he heard the guards yelling. In fact, it was a  lot of guards yelling. Poking his head slightly up over the lip of one of the boxes, Malik caught sight of an assassin’s robes. These were not the robes of novices or even one of the senior assassins, though. This was the grand master himself, running across the rooftops, diving in between buildings and boxes. Leaping when necessary. And right on the tail of their fearless leader was roughly twenty guards.

What was the grandmaster doing here? Malik thought to himself. It was unusual to see Altair outside of Masyaf these days.

Malik blinked as he watched the spectacle. He watched Altair dive off the top of building only to reappear several buildings closer. Ducking for cover behind one of the top floors that stuck up, Altair moved quickly and hid in one of the garden houses. None of the guards had seen him go in.

Bringing his head down to hide from all of the guards himself, Malik listened and waited. It sounded like Altair had managed to piss off every single soldier in the entire city. The rafik put his head in his hand and quietly groaned. Novice, novice indeed.

Minutes passed, before the guards had finally given up. Malik popped his head up and watched for the grandmaster to come out of the garden house. Altair did not immediately come out. That’s good, thought Malik, he must be making sure that they are truly gone, considering how many there were. Maybe he was not as much of a novice as Malik worried he was.

Several more minutes passed and there was no sign of Altair. Malik become concerned. Had the grandmaster been hurt? He did not see any wounds, but that did not mean anything. Altair was good at hiding such things.

Leaving his hiding spot, Malik rushed across the rooftops. As he approached the garden house, he began to slow down.

“Altair,” Malik called out, hoping that the grandmaster would not lash out if he was hurt. Moving the curtains that protected the plants, he looked in and came face to face with a surprised Altair.

Malik’s jaw dropped. A half formed sandcastle lay in front of Altair, with some broken glass, pottery and stones. And feathers. Malik’s feather in particular.

“Malik,” Altair said, his face becoming blank. He stood up and climbed out of the garden house, boots in hand. Boots in hand? Malik looked down at the boots, Altair's bare feet, then back up to Altair’s golden eyes.

The grandmaster only shook his boots, dislodging some sand, then slipped them back on.

“What are doing?” Malik asked through clenched teeth.

Altair gave Malik a sly grin, leaned into the rafik’s space. He slowly leaned down till he was leveled with Malik’s ear.

“No one is going to believe you,” The grandmaster whispered, ignoring his rafik’s question. He gave Malik a quick kiss on the cheek, then took off. Pausing at the edge of rooftop to look back at the stunned man.

Malik turned to yell at the grandmaster, face red with shock when Altair cut him off before he could start.

“I’ll see you in Masyaf, habibi,” Altair said. His face was partially cover by that damnable hood, but Malik could see the grin. It was soft and playful. It made Malik’s blush deepen. The grandmaster turned and dropped to the ground.

Malik stood there, both mildly irritated and exasperated. He shifted back to peer into the garden house. The sand castle was not too bad even if it was not finished, if Malik was going to be honest. It was simple, which was not surprising, Altair was a simple man, but it was graceful with the decorations becoming the details.

Malik shook his head. Altair was right, damn him, no one was going to believe it was the Grandmaster sneaking into the city on some fool’s errand, building sandcastles when he is hiding from guards. No one, absolutely no one was going to believe him. Malik shook his head again.

The rafik turned and head back to the bureau, unsure what he was going to tell the others. It was probably best to tell them that he had not been successful, that no one had shown up and left a castle. Maybe it was some bizarre prank by initiates. He was going to have to come up with a better tale. Malik could have strangled Altair right now, leaving him with this mess to figure out.

He was going to have words with his lover, once he returned to Masyaf.

*****

Several days later…

Malik stretched as he exited his bedroom, sliding the hidden door back into place. He walked around the counter, thinking about what he wanted for breakfast when he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

In the center of his floor was a giant sandcastle. It had to be almost five feet in length and almost four feet high.

It was decorated with broken glass and pots, shards of metal and of course feathers. But not all of the feathers were ones from the bureau, some were from the eagles that could be found around the city.

Malik moved towards the decorations to looking at the “castle” itself. There were three towers around the perimeter. In the center looked like it was a three story castle. Windows and doors had been etched out. Flowing leaf designs and been etched all around, twisting and turning around windows and doors. At the highest points on all of the towers the assassin’s symbol was etched next to a eagle feather.

Malik did not know what to think as he stared at the castle. Part of him was irritated at that fact that his bureau now had sand all in it. He felt humbled at the gift though. It was not often that the grandmaster would give him something so personal. The man was on the reserved side. Malik was also annoyed at the thought that his lover had been here all night and had not come to bed. Of course Altair was not a complete fool. He knew he would have been yelled at for doing this inside the bureau. He was probably already half way to Masyaf at this moment to avoid Malik’s ire.

The rafik sat on the floor and stared at the castle. _What am I going to do about all this sand?_ He thought to himself.

He placed his head in his hand and smiled. His irritation and annoyance was disappearing, leaving him with a feeling of joy and marvel the longer he stared at the castle. He took in more details. Sweet words that had been etched in at hidden spots. Little doodles hidden in the twisting leaves.

“Oh Altair,” Malik whispered. A smile spread across his face. He enjoyed his gift in the quiet morning, a small hope that no one would disturb him for awhile.

*****

Altair looked from the paperwork that sprawled across his desk and noticed that it was late into the night. A groan escaped him as he stood and stretched. He was going to have to sneak out of Masyaf soon again. All this desk work was going to murder him faster than any Templar.

He left the study and headed up to his room. His cold, dark room. Altair let out a quiet groan as he thought about Malik. He wished the man would hurry up and move back to Masyaf. They had not had much time together since they had gotten together shortly after Al Mualim had been dealt with. The order had been in shambles. Altair groaned again at the work that had had to be accomplished in such a short amount of time.

Stumbling into his room, the Grand Master froze when he noticed several large baskets in the center of his floor. Sneaking over, Altair pulled out a knife to gently remove a lid. A frown appeared on his face as he looked inside.

The moonlight that shown in from the windows revealed tiny glass gems, ceramic shells, polished rocks and feathers. Altair turned towards his bed to light a candle. As the room became illuminated by the fire, the Grand Master noticed a folded note on his pillow.

Reaching for it, he saw no seal or marking signifying who it was from. Altair’s confusion was replaced with a grin, when he read the note.

_You can do better than that novice._

Was all the note said. Altair shook his head, wondering if Malik was still in Masyaf.

His question was answered as he completely unfolded the page. A second message had been written.

_The place where we first met._

Altair leaped from his bed as he rushed out his door. What a grand night!


End file.
